Flowing words
do not beat
as the rhythm of my heart
For they are scarce
and hard to come by;
Though quiet it seems
it beats in rapid
succession
At times
in silent discontent,
in chaos caused
by my own façade;
The ironic cadence
becomes unbearable
And with each--
sounding--
beat--
I become weaker,
and
weaker.
Yet, I stay in silence
all too afraid
to scream
and disturb the peace
Though I compromise my own.
So in vain I sit
in hope someone
will hear
the stillness
which rings in
my ears.
My façade is
all too great
an impenetrable burden
of my own creation
It is this harsh and
succinct
rhythmic tone
which is my demise
I am trapped
trapped in structured
synchrony
for the appearance of calm
And I cannot
quiet my heart
and
release
For I am utterly
scared of the consequence
So I turn
to you
as I fall from
pressure.
You manage to
calm my quiet,
discontented heart
As no one has before;
The sound is bearable--
the beat has returned;
soothing and calm
Your eyes
announce
there is nothing
wrong;
there is nothing
wrong;
It will resolve--
and it has
A better song
stays in
my
Heart.